Page 96 of Rhet

“Then they will get rid of you,” my father says he slams the paperweight down.

“Then Draven can take my place,” I shout.

“If the need comes to that,” my father replies.

I really want this day to be over.

“Why so silent?”

“It’s the best way to reply to a clown in my book.” I want to flip the whole table.

He draws back as if I’ve slapped him. “You’re getting tied up with the darkie outside.”

“Dad, that’s racist as hell. I’m asking you kindly to stop because you’re my father.”

“To hell with kindness. Fuck her, yes, by all means. They’re good for that, but don’t think she can be anything more. I won’t allow it.”

He won’t allow it?

“You won’t allow it?” My rage ignites.

“I will have her put away before your relationship becomes serious.” He points at the door. “It’s what I should have done with Trent’s boyfriend.”

Something slows down in me when he threatens Zeeta and a light was lit when he spoke about Trent. I stand slowly and walk around the table. He stands his ground firm, his arms folded over his chest, the cloth folds in his jacket creases over his muscles.

“Let me make myself clear.” I invade his personal space. “You may be alive, but you’re no longer the head of this fucking family. Even if you are my dad.”

“That little nig—” He stops as I press my chest into his

“I am not Trent, that isn’t Marcus out there. Know me, know what I can do, who I can do it to, and when I want do it, it gets done.”

His lips thins out as he grumbles our family motto. “Blood above it all else.” My rage is building up in me.

“I stopped giving a fuck about that motto the day Trent died. I didn’t give a fuck, yesterday, not today and nowhere in the fucking future.”

“You forget your place, boy.”

“No, pops. My place is at the fucking top and I’m looking down and ruling over everyone below, including you.”

He unfolds his arms and fixes my shirt. “I have no problem taking back what was once mine.”

“If you are not on my side, you are against me. You choose.”

He shakes his head. “Over some fucking black pussy.”

I didn’t even realize I reacted until my father tumbles back into my office bookshelf. I don’t know if I smacked him or punched him. What I do know, he will never step to me again? At least not for a long time.

He gets up, pressing his palm against his face. “Be happy you’re my son, greater men have died for less.”

“I said what I said. Now. You. Choose.” A simmering rage consumes my body.

“For now, I choose peace.” He turns to leave and calls my mom’s name. Apparently, he’s leaving. Fine with me.

I go back to my seat and I let the realization of smacking my dad over Zeeta settle in.

My head begins to pound. What the hell am I thinking? Did I just oppose my father for a woman I want to causally fuck?

It feels wrong thinking about Zeeta that way, but that’s the way it is and has to be. I’m even more convinced now, bringing her into this corrupt world is dangerous. Of all the times, Julian had to get his wife pregnant he had to choose now. Things would have been less complicated if he were here.

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